3.6
July 30, 2015

I Want You to Know Me.

gert photo

I want you to know what kind of man I am beneath the surface.

I want you to understand what makes my heart beat faster. What I love. What makes me mad, and why it has that power over me.

My anger is suppressed and cold, but will eventually explode in a raging fire—quickly cooled. I forgive the people who’ve done me wrong, but I never forget. Things are never the same.

My quiet eyes are struck by the fear of never again stroking your hair when we drift off to sleep. Not a day will pass that I won’t text you goodnight, so you’ll fall asleep knowing that I am thinking of you.

I see your face when I lay my head down; I see your face each time I wake. Bathed in sweat by haunted dreams, I am soothed in waking up, for it is you I see at first sight.

In loneliness I used to find comfort. I made peace with the demons inside me. But ever since I met you there is no comfort in loneliness—only emptiness.

The sunset gives me peace, for I know I have survived another day without you by my side. But it is sunrise that gives me the most joy, for I know you get closer to my side with every rising sun.

The winter makes me feel good. When asked to describe winter, I tell them of the wasteland of brilliant white that sparkles like a fresh page in the sun. I speak of the blustering subzero winds that bite at the little skin I dared expose. I describe the crystalline crunch of fresh snow after a blizzard that erased my footprints and set the world anew once more. I speak of the snowflakes that fall upon my lips, and I smile.

There is nothing to do in winter but smile.

Not a day goes by that I do not want to escape this world I was born and molded in. Not a day goes by that I do not long for a log cabin on the edge of the lake. Not a day goes by that I do not want to run away. Not a day goes by that I do not want to run away with you.

I hide in the pages I write, for they are my only release of this fear that I’ll never be free. My safe haven is within these pages—a haven I always return to. A trip I make on my own.

But rest assured, I will always sail back to your safe haven by the end of the day—making the reunion sweeter because of my absence.

I have wronged many people in my past. Their tears rained on my heart, but only when the drops had all but dried out did I start to feel the sting of guilt.

Every day I wear a mask of hardness when I face pain, for I don’t want anyone to feel what I feel. For I don’t need compassion. I don’t ask for forgiveness. I bleed through another’s wounds, but I will not show.

When the strong are too weak to face pain, the weak have to be strong.

Once I loved someone and broke her heart. Never have I been able to fix it. Someone else did.

It is one of the biggest regrets I have in my life, not being able to fix what I’ve broken. My soul is hidden from the daylight, for I do not wish others to see what I’ve seen. I do not wish others to live how I’ve lived.

I want you to know the very worst of me, so you’d be able to see the very best of me as well.

In my heart plays the melancholic music of my life, yet I still dance to the beat of yours.

My kisses are soft and gentle like a lullaby, but they would better burn with passion and make their way to your heart, filling it with desire that refuses to be stilled. Or both. I want those kisses both.

It is not beauty which takes my breath away, but rather wit and knowledge. The overlooked ones catch my eye; it is the hidden treasures that speak to me.

I am a risk taker. I will throw everything away for love, though in my eyes it is not a risk, but an opportunity to find true happiness. An opportunity I will fight for and keep on fighting for. For I fear I would otherwise let my one chance of happiness slip away. Never will I settle for the next best girl, knowing that the best girl is still out there.

I have loved and lost and cried until I could not breath anymore. Cried until I fell asleep exhausted. I have lived through days where I was jealous of the dead. I have been broken into a million tiny pieces and it has made me ruthless.

It was you who made me see again that it is not weak to show emotion. You showed me it was being strong. I will show you my pain, if you show me yours. Rest assured it will not scare me; I can help you—make you grow.

I talk to the glittering stars above, hoping the ones that matter can hear me.

I talk to the ones that left. I talk to the ones I see in other people. I am not afraid of death, but I am afraid of life. I fear life cannot give me what I want.

It is in words I find my comfort. The books I read are an echo of my life. With every character that breaks, I break.

I have secrets too heavy to carry on my own, yet I do not seem to find a person to help me. So please, come with me, and help me carry them, for I do not know how long I can go on.

I will tell you my story, for it might well become part of yours. I want to let you in. I want you to see me. The real me.

I want you to know me.

~

Author: Gert Delys

Editor: Toby Israel

Photo: Author’s Own

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